


Protected and Protective

by lordmediator



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Love, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kid Mycroft, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft Feels, Mycroft Holmes Has Feelings, Mycroft To The Rescue, Mycroft is a Softie, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Past Drug Addiction, Protective Big Brother Mycroft, Protective Mycroft, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock is a Mess, Teen Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21915064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordmediator/pseuds/lordmediator
Summary: As children, people knew that Sherlock was Mycroft’s only weakness. As teenagers, Mycroft knew Sherlock got under the influence of drugs and made those that did this to him pay dearly for it. In college, Mycroft knew he couldn’t protect Sherlock the same way anymore, but nevertheless, Mycroft was always aware. Now, as adults, Mycroft is now the most powerful man in the British government and will do whatever it takes to protect his brother.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes
Comments: 6
Kudos: 156





	Protected and Protective

**Author's Note:**

> Warning! Mentions of drug use, non-consensual acts and such. 
> 
> I made this shortly after finishing the entire series and falling in love with the characters. This was just sitting on my computer after I wrote this for fun, after all, overprotective characters are fun to write about.

As Children

_We all thought you were the stupid one, Sherlock. Then, we met the other children._

Sherlock kneeled by the bushes of the playground, his large magnifying glass in one hand and his other hand firmly on the ground as he gazed through the tiny little ants marching up and down the hill.

While the other children laughed and shouted as they played, Mycroft sat on the bench closest to the entrance door, umbrella by his side, his eyes focused on his book about politics that someone of his age shouldn’t be able to understand yet. 

By the slide, three of the big kids whispered among each other as they strutted towards Mycroft.

“Hey, Mycroft,” the biggest of the kids greeted, a wide grin on his face.

Mycroft rolled his eyes and wanted to ignore this goldfish’s yapping, yet he knew this was the type of kid that would further be an incessant annoyance if ignored. So, he engaged in conversation, asking them what they wanted. And their answer was simple and stupid. 

They wanted him to do their homework for the whole week. 

“Why?” Mycroft questioned, a smirk tugging at his lips. “To further prove how much of simpletons you three are?”

The shortest bully stepped forward, but the leader blocked him. “How bout this? Do our homework, and your precious lil brother doesn’t get hurt—”

They barely had time to react before Mycroft hit him smack on the face with his umbrella, falling right onto his bum, screaming in agony as he held his bleeding nose. And before the other two could react, Mycroft hit one on both knees in one strike and hit the third one right on the stomach. Soon, all three were writhing on the ground, one coughing and two screaming.

Mycroft loomed over the three, his blue eyes casting an icy rage as he stared down at them. “Since you goldfishes are so stupid, let me say this in a simple manner so that even your small brains can comprehend what I’m saying,” his tone remained steady and calm, yet hid a rage that sent shivers down their spines. “Stay. Away. From. My. Brother.”

As teenagers

Sherlock knew what happened all those years ago in the playground. That threat had carried through even in high school, yet Sherlock was not mad. Even without his brother’s threat, he knew he wouldn’t be able to make any friends with how boring ordinary people were. Even his teachers, the people he was supposed to regard as his mentors in teaching him stuff he didn’t know, were all so boring to him. He excelled in every class, getting the best grades, yet this wasn’t enough. Going to school every day, same classes, same people, same stupidity, same isolation. It was all so boring! So, Sherlock decided to try something new. He knew his brother would never approve of it, but he was desperate by this point.

He became a junkie.

And Sherlock loved it.

The numbness, it stopped his brain from thinking for once. It made him relax in a way no other meditation or therapeutic exercises could. And most importantly, it made him forget how bored he was.

Of course, it didn’t take Mycroft long to figure it out, after Sherlock didn’t come home one night and a search party was conducted. And because he knew his brother best, and because he was the smarter brother, he spotted Sherlock by the dumpster of a narrow alleyway, slumped and clearly drugged.

Intervention was inevitable. And though Sherlock swore to never use drugs again in front of his parents and authorities, Mycroft knew it was just that. Something to say in front of figures of authority.

In College

Being seven years older, Mycroft was well on his way into the political scene after graduating with the highest degree. However, when it was Sherlock’s time, his worry only grew. He couldn’t protect Sherlock like he used to anymore. No more threatening kids by hitting them with his umbrella, no more blackmail he managed to gather from his own deduction and the school’s gossip girls, and no more Sherlock. 

He knew Sherlock would enjoy every moment of the new freedom he gained, but he also knew this freedom came with a price. 

One day, he was working as the assistant to a man of high political standing when he received an unexpected call from Sherlock. Stranger still, because the younger Holmes sibling had not contacted him in months after throwing a childish tantrum of how he can take care of himself now. 

“Sherlock?” Mycroft answered, his gut telling him something was wrong.

“Mycroft…” Sherlock whimpered, which was enough for Mycroft to start coming up with different possibilities. “I… I… It hurts…”

“Where are you?” Mycroft asked sternly.

After pinning his location, Mycroft quickly ran to the same abandoned apartment building by the dumpster he found Sherlock all those years ago. Entering the building and up the stairs where other junkies laid in dirty clothing and unsanitary sheets and mattresses, he was ready to give his brother an earful when he saw the state of his brother.

Sobbing, a needle by his side on a similar dirty mattress. His dark coat and scarf strewn around him. He didn’t even realize Mycroft was there until he felt him sit down on the same dirty mattress.

“I… know I said—”

“Ssh, Sherlock,” Mycroft interjected, his face showing pain for once, as he gazed at him. “I’m not mad at you. Just—” That was when he saw the marks on his brother’s pale skin. Red scratch marks. Purple scratch marks. He didn’t have to be a genius to know. 

“I-I’m sorry…” Sherlock sobbed once more, once he knew Mycroft had realized it. “I’m a shame to our fam—”

Mycroft didn’t let him finish. He took his brother in his arms, not caring about the grime. “You needn’t apologize, brother.” And with that once statement, Sherlock broke down, gripping his brother like there was no tomorrow. And Mycroft felt like they were children again. Sherlock, small and defenseless against the bullies, bruised and hurt from their torment. And Mycroft, holding him in his arms, swearing to always be there for him and vengeance against all of them.

And yet, look at where they were now.

As Adults

It took some time, but Sherlock had managed to get over his drug problem, finding a new high from doing detective work. Now that Mycroft had risen to power and now stood as the most powerful man in the government, he now had every means to protect his brother. Be it through surveillance cameras, or doing background checks on every person Sherlock had come across.

He wouldn’t let that happen again. Not now, or ever.

When a former army doctor had come into his brother’s life as his potential flatmate and had shown to be surprisingly loyal and adaptable, Mycroft decided to meet this one in person. To test him, he pretended to be Sherlock’s nemesis and even offered a handsome fee if Watson agreed to spy on his brother. And despite having only known the man in less than twenty-four hours, the doctor refused.

It was by this point the relationship between Sherlock and Mycroft had become somewhat strained. Sherlock now refused his brother’s constant surveillance insurance in an attempt to assert his independence, so Mycroft was left with little to no choice really, but to depend on John Watson to look after him.

Yet Mycroft knew, he would always be there for Sherlock.

“Sir?” his assistant stated as she entered his office. “We’ve found the drug dealer. We have him in custody. What do you wish to do?”

Mycroft felt himself smile. That single incident. That was all it took. That incident motivated Mycroft to climb the ranks of the government. At that time, he couldn’t help his brother, what with being a measly assistant to a now deceased politician. And this was his reason. With his power and position, he could find anyone now. And the man that had hurt his brother all those years ago was in his grasp.

“Send him in,” he paused as he felt himself smirk.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this one-shot of an protective Mycroft and have a great day!


End file.
